


Medium

by Hannelore_Grace



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bondage, Crossdressing, Daddy Kink, M/M, Whipping, mention of non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-18
Updated: 2012-09-18
Packaged: 2017-11-14 12:02:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/515033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hannelore_Grace/pseuds/Hannelore_Grace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He understands, however, that the ropes alone are not the art. He himself is part of the exhibit, just another medium for Jim to bend and mold in his capable hands."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Medium

The ropes are coarse, tight and irritating against Sebastian's skin. They wind around his wrists, his arms, his chest, and his legs, forcing him to lay spread-eagle on the sheets. Those are soft, almost delicate in the way they brush against his skin. He knows Jim planned this, planned the teasing contrast, because Jim plans everything. Even the twisting trail of the ropes speak of a perfectly plotted execution; they curl and wrap and knot around one another in a pattern which even Sebastian has to admit is aesthetically pleasing in its intricacy. He understands, however, that the ropes alone are not the art. He himself is part of the exhibit, just another medium for Jim to bend and mold in his capable hands.  


This understanding is why when Jim approaches him with the whip in hand Sebastian doesn't tense or flinch or wince. Jim needs to see him, needs to examine the canvas laid before him to decide where to land the first strike. Sebastian mustn't spoil Jim's show by reacting unduly. He is here to be used, but he also knows that he'll be repaid well for his good behavior.  


"Such a pretty boy." Jim's voice is soft. Soft as the sheets, but far more tantalizing. His fingertips run up Sebastian's bare thigh, just barely skimming the skin as he follows the winding trail of one of his veins. Their path stops just below Sebastian's hip, slipping underneath the hem of the sheer undergarment stretched tight over Sebastian's cock for only a moment before withdrawing. "Daddy loves it when you dress up for him."  


Sebastian wants to respond-- wants to ask Jim to please touch him again, please press those clever fingers farther down into the knickers and into his willing body-- but he refrains, biting his lip to hold back his pleas while his eyes drop demurely to a spot below Jim's gaze. They've been building up to this all day, teasing one another in anticipation of the evening. The soft rub of the knickers against his cock had taunted Sebastian every time he rose from a seat or went for a piss. It was almost too much anticipation, and on several occasions it had taken all Sebastian's efforts not to step out of the dainty little knickers and wank off into them. Jim would have known, however, and Sebastian always hates upsetting Jim's meticulously crafted plans with his own impatience.

It's obvious that Jim has not gone unfazed by the day's activities either, however. His erection is visible beneath his finely tailored trousers, and he's already rolling the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows to begin. Usually he prefers more foreplay, likes to keep Sebastian on the edge for ages before actually delivering anything to him. Tonight, however, he is getting straight to business. Sebastian appreciates this, is grateful that he won't be made to come in the panties then feel it slowly drying over his skin as Jim teases his cock to arousal once again. Then again, Jim's so changeable that it might happen anyway.

Jim lays the whip on Sebastian's stomach, letting the tails of it brush against his exposed nipples as he begins palming Sebastian's cock. His fingers massage Sebastian's balls as his palm rubs down hard against the swollen bulge of his erection. “Tell me about your day, love,” he says, “Did you play nice with the other kiddies?”

Sebastian can't help but huff out a short breath as Jim teases his cock, all the while looking at him with those damned bedroom eyes of his. His expression is quiet for once, and Sebastian is glad of it. He doesn't think he could allow Jim to have him all tied up when he's got that manic, feral look on his face. 

“Yes, daddy,” Sebastian replies. He's grateful for the ropes now. They hold him down, remind him to be good for Jim. He'd be trying to fuck Jim's hand if not for their restraint.

“Such a good boy,” Jim coos, and Sebastian is tempted to remind him that this is daddy-- not puppy-- play, but then Jim leans down and pulls back the waistband of Sebastian's knickers so the tip of his cock is exposed and all words are scattered through his mind as he watches Jim's lips press ever so lightly against his crown. He's sure that he's made an embarrassing sound of some sort, but even just the brush of Jim's breath against his prick is enough to make his cock twitch against the lace of his knickers.

Jim tilts his head back up so he's looking Sebastian in the eye as he pulls the knickers down lower. “Does baby like that?” he asks, careless of how the proximity of his mouth to Sebastian's cock is driving the sniper wild.

“Yes, daddy,” Sebastian says. He's slightly embarrassed by the whining tone his voice has adopted. Jim apparently likes it, though, if the twitch of his lips is anything to go by.

Jim peels the knickers down all the way to Sebastian's balls, then begins lightly fisting him. His fingers are loosely looped around Sebastian's stiff length, hardly giving him any friction at all. Sebastian clenches his teeth and lets his head fall back on the pillow, intent on riding out Jim's teasing until the actual fun begins. However, Jim seems to have other plans for him.

“Don't ignore me,” Jim snaps out, and Sebastian is jerked back to reality when Jim's fingers abruptly tighten around his prick and twist, and not in the fun way, either. He gasps and his hips twitch in a failed attempt to break away from Jim's grip. “Daddy doesn't like it when baby won't play with him.”

“Sorry, daddy.” He can feel himself shaking slightly because he knows that soon the reassuring weight of the whip on his chest will be moved. Soon, he'll be completely at Jim's mercy.

“Good. Now make sure you pay attention.” Jim is speaking slowly, emphasizing each word with a light smack of his fingers against Sebastian's cock and balls. 

Witholding whimpers when Jim mercilessly flicks the tip of his prick, Sebastian bites his lip and nods. His toes and fingers alike are curled tight, tension thrumming through him as he watches Jim's ministrations. Eventually, Jim relents. He goes back to lightly fisting Sebastian's cock, pushing himself back up on his knees so he can look down at Sebastian's bound form.

“I'm going to make you bleed, baby,” he says. His voice has changed now; it is low, a promise of danger hidden under his words. “So tomorrow you'll remember how I can hurt you, and you'll be a good boy again.”

For one irrational moment, Sebastian almost quips that it's a good thing Jim can't get himself knocked up because pre-emptive child beatings is generally frowned upon, but his train of thought is abruptly thrown off course when the whip is lifted from his chest. The tails brush over his bare skin, leaving gooseflesh in their wake. He licks his lips and watches Jim intently as he slides off the bed, tugging his waistcoat back down so his clothes are as impeccable as ever. If it wasn't for the black leather held in his hand, he would look as if he'd just gone for a drink with some colleagues. 

Mentally, Sebastian reminds himself of their safeword as he watches Jim adjusting his grip around the handle of the whip. There have been instances of him needing to use it in the past, after all. Usually Jim stops as soon as he hears it or sees the other various non-verbal cues they've developed. Once or twice he's kept going, pushing Sebastian until he's screamed himself hoarse, but he always apologizes afterward. Always holds and reassures Sebastian until he's calmed down again. In the end, Sebastian always tells himself that he probably deserves the extra beating or fucking or cutting or burning and happily follows Jim back to bed once again. Because they both need this, in their own way. On many levels, he probably needs it more than Jim does.

Sebastian is once again jarred out of his thoughts by Jim. The whip comes down hard against his chest, leaving long, red marks over the bare skin. Sebastian yelps and curls his fingers until his nails bite into his palms. The whip falls over his skin again, this time hitting the vulnerable inside of Sebastian's thigh. Air hisses through Sebastian's clenched teeth. The ropes suddenly feel tighter, and Sebastian realizes that it's because he's squirming against them, tugging at his restraints until they dig deeper into his skin. He's missed a couple of more lashes while distracted by the sensations of the rope twisting at his skin, but he quickly forces himself to focus back on his punishment. Jim's eye meets his for just a moment, a smirk playing at his lips before he brings the whip down harder, smacking Sebastian closer to his balls than he's completely comfortable with. Sebastian realizes that he's shouting now-- probably some half-coherent nonsense he'll be ashamed of later-- and a sweat has broken out over his skin. 

The pain isn't so bad. The pain is tolerable. What's bothering him is how the helplessness of being unable to move is combining with the relentless strikes of the whip to make him feel completely open and vulnerable. He's exposed, and not just because he's naked and spread out on the bed for Jim's pleasure. The pain is chipping away at the barriers he puts between his thoughts and Jim. It's cracking the wall, and Sebastian is sure that Jim is reading every emotion he's ever felt in his quickly changing expressions. He grits his teeth and tries to gather his resolve, tries to make himself a blank slate because he doesn't want this, doesn't want Jim to have yet another piece of his psyche to pick apart with his ravenous little claws. He's failing, though. He's losing every last shred of control, and he knows it. He has a single moment of clarity before he loses even that-- a moment when he realizes that _this_ is what he wants, and he feels a surge of gratitude toward Jim for giving it to him.

Warm hands are cradling his cheeks, soft-padded thumbs brushing the tender skin under his eyelids. Words are there, he's sure of it, but he's too distracted by the soft whimpering noise coming from nearby to make sense of them. It's only when the numbness in his body begins to abate that he realizes those whimpers are coming from himself. His chest is tight and aching, his throat raw and sore. The hands have moved away from his face and are easing the ropes around his arms and legs loose. His body is shifted, then, until he's on his side with the warm mass that is Jim laying behind him, his chest slotted up against Sebastian's back.

“It's okay, baby,” Jim says, and his voice is downy soft once again. “Daddy's so proud of you.”

Jim's palm has slid down into Sebastian's knickers, and he is loosely stroking Sebastian's cock to full hardness once again. Sebastian scrunches his eyes closed and tries to hold back the choked cry forcing its way up his throat. The tears come harder then-- humiliating and painful and cathartic and relaxing as ever-- until Sebastian feels a wet patch forming on the pillow underneath him. 

“That's right, baby,” Jim murmurs into his ear. “Daddy has to hurt you, but only so you'll feel good later.”

When orgasm finally takes him, Sebastian isn't sure if it's his climax or the tight hold in which Jim takes him that offers the most comfort. Regardless, he presses his face into the side of Jim's neck and lets his post-coital calm settle deep into his bones. He is utterly at peace now, spent and exhausted from Jim's ministrations. He gives an appreciative hum and kisses Jim's neck, pleasure suffusing his body at Jim's replying whisper of, “Sleep, my darling. You've been such a good boy.”

Sebastian slowly eases into sleep. He can feel the sting of the lashes from the whip, and the burn the ropes have left over his skin. He is aching, but he knows that when he looks in the mirror the next morning, he will once again be awe-struck by the work of art into which Jim has crafted him.


End file.
